


Amnesty is a Frame of Mind

by MagicFish



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, but also sincerely thanks Griffin you do good work, canon divergent as all hell, just so much fluff, thanks Griffin, this is very self-serving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 17:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicFish/pseuds/MagicFish
Summary: It begins, like so many things Ned Chicane does, as a joke.





	Amnesty is a Frame of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, frightened babies. Welcome to the farm of the Old Shipper. Here, we plow our fields with our bare hands and harvest our mature gay ships only after the cold light of the sun has set upon our silvered heads. They say that on cold winter nights, you can hear the wails of the Old Shipper in the chill air near the rickety bridge, and if you listen very, very closely, you can just make out the words "Let Ned fuck! Leeeet Neeeeeed fuuuuuuuuuuck."
> 
> This was inspired entirely by a minor moment in thor20's excellent Indrid/Duck fic "The Moth who Came In from the Cold," which I highly recommend.

Ned Chicane tries his hardest to be a good person. A good person, conventional wisdom would argue, is someone you don't know very well. Someone whose faults you haven't had time to discover. A good person is the sweet frosting of politeness spread thickly over a marbled and morally ambiguous person-cake, and that's exactly what Ned has always tried to be to the people of Kepler. To most people in town, he's a vaguely unreliable but ultimately harmless grifter, and that's how Ned likes it.

So when Aubrey and Duck and their bizarre partnership forces its way into his life, he's understandably resistant at first. As the others come to know him and don't pull away, though, he's surprised to find that, after everything, he still has the capacity not only to enjoy their friendship, but to rely on it.

Aubrey and Duck, however, don't have the same kind of hang-ups Ned has. Well, Aubrey doesn't. She makes friends quickly and easily with the young people in the lodge, and Ned often sees her galavanting-his word, not hers-with Dani or Jake Coolice out in town or near the hotspring. For Duck's part, he avoids the lodge as much as possible, afraid that Agent Stern will ask him just the wrong question and send him stumbling into revealing what the Pine Guard are protecting.

To fill the gap left behind by his new friends, Ned finds himself spending more and more time with Amnesty Lodge's resident Bigfoot chef. He doesn't have much of a choice. Hanging out with Agent Stern is, of course, out of the question, no matter how confident Ned is that he can string the man along 'til kingdom come. Mama seems to be busy all the time. Moira is always off somewhere doing ghost things that Ned would rather not get involved with.

So in his hours away from the Cryptonomica, that leaves Ned and Barclay and a whole lot of time. Which is fine, because they've managed to settle into a pretty solid routine. Ned stops by of an evening, Barclay makes up a couple of plates of whatever he's cooked for dinner, and they eat in the kitchen, chatting companionably over their dinners and, later, their tea mugs. Sometimes Mama or Jake or Aubrey and Dani join them. Most of the time, they're alone.

Over time, the frequency of their dinners increases, partly because Ned is ecstatic to have found a source of actual food (free food, at that) instead of having to rely on his bizarrely dysfunctional microwave to mangle yet another serving of gruel hot pockets, and partly because conversation with Barclay never runs out. Barclay's been all over the place, and has seen things that Ned can only imagine.

The reverse is true, as well. Barclay revels in the stories of Ned's own travels, hanging on every word, laughing at the fake adventures and enraptured by the true ones. How he can tell one from the other, Ned hasn't managed to figure out. Maybe it's because of that that Ned finds himself developing a deep-seated inclination to tease the man.

His greatest tease begins, like so many things Ned Chicane does, as a joke.

Barclay is chuckling knowingly at one of his tall tales and Ned, rankled ever so slightly that his lie has been so easily uncovered, raises his mug to his mouth, grins, and says, "Glad you're amused, dear." He gets a good laugh at the fact that he's made Bigfoot jump in surprise. The shock on Barclay's face is too good to pass up, so from there, the joke grows. A teasing little "yes, dear" here, an impish "pardon me, dear" there. Maybe a "honey" thrown in every so often for spice. The joke becomes a game, a way to make Barclay flush self-consciously. Then it's just habit.

Christmas brings a massive uptick in cooking demands, and Ned's once-a-week appearance at the Lodge becomes a daily affair without Barclay even asking for it. The Cryptonomica closes early every day starting on the nineteenth so Ned can head up to the lodge to help with Christmas baking and sumptuous chicken dinners. This is when the "dears" become second nature, no longer a joke but simply what Ned calls Barclay when they're alone. He swings toward the sink with a "look out, dear, I have a knife" or slides past Barclay toward the pantry with his fingertips gently pressed to Barclay's broad back as a warning, chiming "excuse me, dear" and studiously not noticing the ripple of strength under his hand.

By the time the new year arrives, the habit is unbreakable. Ned stomps in through the kitchen door, kicking off his snow boots with a hearty "good afternoon, dear" and neither he nor Barclay notice Mama's surprise until she starts laughing. Ned halfheartedly tries to curtail his use of the endearment in public after that, but he's getting older and habits are harder to break. Anyway, the damage has definitely already been done, so fuck it. If the kids are gonna smile like he and Barclay are some charming old married couple just because a silly nickname has stuck, then let 'em. It's not hurting anybody. And if Ned finds himself wishing sometimes that they were actually a charming old married couple, well, that's between him and his maker.

It's not until Barclay gets dragged, semi-conscious and bleeding, into the infirmary under the lodge that Ned has any real reason to feel self-conscious about the meaning behind his little verbal tic.

"It got him in the woods out back," Duck tells him as he helps Barclay onto the table. "He's lucky I happened to get here when I did. I got it with a flare gun and I think that scared it off, but it's nowhere near done for."

Barclay looks like he's been pummeled within an inch of his life. He's covered with scratches where he has connected with tree bark and branches, and his left arm is hanging at an unsettling angle.

"Story later, big guy," Ned says frantically. "Go get Mama and see if you can find Aubrey."

As Duck rushes back up the stairs, Ned leans in to examine Barclay's pupils. "What did this to ya, honey?"

"An abomination," Barclay slurs.

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"It was so angry."

"I bet it was."

"No, I mean...when it touched me...it felt so...angry. I felt angry." Barclay looks confused, frustrated by his own statement. "I'm not making any...any sense, am I?"

"Not really, dear, but that's alright. Just stay with me. Stay awake."

"Being awake hurts."

"Just think how lucky you are that you're awake with me, then. Alright, look straight ahead now. Come on, sweetheart, I need you to try to follow my finger with your eyes. There you go, honey. You're doing great."

Relief floods through Ned as he hears the others clambering down the cellar stairs behind him. He steps back and lets the semi-professionals take over while he keeps Barclay alert and conversational.

Later, when Aubrey has magically patched up Barclay's arm and his scratches are cleaned and dressed (and maybe over-cleaned, since they've used so much rubbing alcohol that Ned thinks he has a contact high), they help him back up to his room while Mama distracts Agent Stern. The others don't even ask before leaving Ned on concussion duty, a fact that Ned only remembers to be annoyed about much later.

Barclay has gotten over the initial dazedness, and accepts Ned's help to lower himself stiffly onto his bed with a grunted "thanks, dear."

Ned chuckles softly. "You're welcome, dear."

Barclay's tired smile lights up the room for Ned, and he immediately distracts himself by puttering around for blankets and acetaminophen as he chats with Barclay about his close encounter with what Aubrey still insists on calling a "major bom-bom."

"I mean it, Ned. It's a vicious sonuvagun," Barclay warns.

"Well yeah. I mean, If it can do this kind of damage to freakin' Bigfoot, we're gonna have problems," Ned agrees grimly.

"You're gonna be careful, right?"

"Barclay, whenever we go after this thing, I guarantee we will be as careful as careful can be," Ned assures him. Barclay, who always can tell when Ned is lying, is kind enough not to call him out on it.

He watches Barclay settle down to sleep and stations himself in a worn La-Z-Boy near the window so he'll be ready to wake Barclay up and check on him through the night. Ned focuses on Barclay's even breathing for a while, then rummages around in the bookshelf for something to read.

Barclay sleeps soundly, in full recovery mode from his injuries, and Ned almost regrets waking him up at seven o'clock to make sure he can still hold a conversation.

"Barclay," he calls softly, shaking his friend's shoulder as firmly as he dares.

"Hmmmmm yeah I'm up," Barclay mutters, half-asleep.

"Just want to make sure you're alright, dear," Ned assures him. "Do you remember where we are?"

Barclay opens his eyes, and Ned is pleased to see that he looks present and attentive. "We're in my room at the lodge."

"Good. Remember what happened?"

"I got attacked by a bom-bo- goddammit, by an abomination," Barclay reports.

"Remember who I am?"

"You're my-" Barclay pauses for a moment, obviously flustered, before continuing, "my friend, Ned."

"Hey, three for three. It's a new world record," Ned laughs. "You feeling alright? Dizzy? Sick?"

"No, just tired."

"Then I guess I can quit my torture routine and let you get back to sleep." Ned gives the covers a little perfunctory tuck-in around Barclay's shoulders with a soft "good night, dear," and heads back to the chair.

At about nine-thirty, Dani shows up with a tray of food for them. It's as good a time as any to check on Barclay again, so Ned cheerfully settles the tray in a blank spot on the dresser and goes to wake his friend.

"Barclay," he says gently. Barclay just grumbles and turns his head.

"Barclay," Ned says again, a little louder, shaking his friend's shoulder. Barclay grumbles again and shifts fitfully under the covers, but remains fast asleep. Careful not to jostle any wounds, Ned leans over the bed, braces a hand on the other side of Barclay's body, and leans in toward Barclay's ear.

"Barclay, honey, wake up," he says, trying to keep his tone soothing even at the increased volume. He doesn't have time to assess Barclay's response, because all of a sudden he's twisting through the air and landing flat on his back on the other side of the bed. Barclay's hands are like vices on his upper arms, and Ned's legs are completely immobile, wrapped up in the covers and clamped together between Barclay's knees.

"Oof," Ned says eloquently. Above him, Barclay blinks away the last of his sleep.

"Ned?" For a moment, Barclay looks confused. Then he seems to come to and his grip on Ned's arms relaxes. "Oh, Ned! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Funny," Ned says, "I was waking you up to ask you that." He hopes the jocularity in his tone masks his sudden breathlessness. He's always known that Barclay is strong, but Ned is a pretty big guy, and he isn't used to getting thrown around like it's nothing.

"I'm so sorry, Ned. I dreamed I was fighting that thing again and I must have reacted without thinking." Barclay still hasn't moved from above him, apparently more focused on gaining Ned's forgiveness than on freeing him from Barclay's bed. For the moment, that suits Ned just fine.

"Think nothing of it, dear." Ned means to speak in his usual booming voice, but instead it comes out soft and tender. He's not sure if he imagines that Barclay's leaning ever-so-slightly closer until Barclay shifts his arms away from Ned's and braces them on the pillow on either side of Ned's head.

"I don't know how to say this," Barclay says softly, his breath ghosting over Ned's face.

"Sometimes it's best just to get things out in the open," Ned says breathlessly.

"Then I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna need some help getting back up." Barclay's tone is sheepish, and Ned abruptly registers that the arms around him are trembling with effort.

"Oh. Oh!"

"Yeah, I'm real sorry, but that fight must've taken more out of me than I thought."

"Yeah, I can see that. It's OK, I've got you, dear." Ned switches gears as quickly as he can into business mode and reaches out for Barclay's hips. "I'm gonna steady you, so whenever you're ready, just roll back to the side and I'll keep you from falling, alright? One, two…"

They execute the move flawlessly, or so Ned will claim later. For now, he's just satisfied that neither of them gets hurt and, particularly, that Barclay manages to avoid kicking Ned in the groin.

Barclay lands on his side of the bed with a thud and a groan that turns into a chuckle, and soon he and Ned are laughing uproariously at themselves.

As they finally manage to calm down, Ned sits up. "Now that you're fully awake, are you prepared to submit yourself to my tender minestrone?"

"What?" Barclay asks.

"Dani brought up some leftover soup."

"Ned, that's awful. The joke, I mean; I'd love some soup."

"You got it, dear!"

They eat the soup companionably, spinning ever-more-bizarre stories to tell Agent Stern to explain Barclay's injuries until Barclay is too tired to stay awake any longer. Ned tucks him back in and settles into his chair, his heart as warm as his stomach.

It's nearly midnight when Duck comes knocking gently at the door.

"Barclay doing alright?" he asks awkwardly, clearly concerned but eager to discuss something else.

"Yeah, he's fine," said Ned, carefully angling the door to keep the hall light out of the darkened room. "What's up in the rest of the lodge?"

"Indrid just called. He says there's a high probability that our abomination is gonna cause some sort of accident on the highway in about a half hour. We gotta go try to head it off."

"Right." Ned hesitated.

"Dani's planning to head up in a little bit to take over," Duck says reassuringly. Ned nods.

"Yeah, that's good. Look, just give me a minute to, ah, get my stuff together, OK?"

"We'll be waiting in the truck."

Ned closes the door and shakes Barclay awake again. Barclay wakes more gently this time, blinking blearily up at Ned in the dim lamp light. He smiles sleepily.

"Good morning, hon," he murmurs, his voice sleep-slurred and warm.

"Not quite morning yet, dear. I just gotta check on you. You know where we are?"

"My room at Amnesty Lodge." This time, Barclay's response is quick and ready, almost rehearsed.

"Remember why?"

"Abomination."

"Got it in one. Alright, Dani's heading up to get you through the rest of the night, but I think you're gonna be just fine."

Barclay frowns. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Aubrey, Duck, and me are gonna head out to try to catch the thing that did this to you."

Barclay's hand is suddenly hot on his wrist, holding him in place, and Ned is so surprised he almost missed Barclay saying, "Ned you can't."

"I have to. It comes with the job. Remember the Pine Guard? Serve, protect, and whatnot?"

"Do you even have a plan?" Barclay's hand slips down Ned's wrist and folds insistently around Ned's hand. "Honey, after what it did to me, you need to be prepared."

Ned hesitates only a moment before he twists his hand to mesh their fingers together. "A plan is just something that trips you up when the unexpected happens," he says, trying to be reassuring. From Barclay's expression, he hasn't succeeded. "Anyway, I've got Duck and Aubrey, who I'll remind you is a literal wizard, with me. We've fought things this bad before and come out on top."

Barclay still looks worried.

"Besides," Ned continues, "we have intel from Indrid. We know where it's going to be and we'll be ready." He wraps his other hand around Barclay's, desperate to calm him. "Sweetheart, we're gonna be alright. I promise."

"As if you can promise that, Ned Chicane." Barclay's tone is chiding, but Ned can tell he's going to relent before he says, "Just promise me that you'll do your best to come back to me safe." His gaze holds Ned's, intense and earnest and utterly breathtaking.

"How could I refuse you anything?" Ned's smile isn't teasing enough to play it off as a joke, but Barclay doesn't seem to mind.

The ride down the highway is tense. Aubrey crouches in the narrow, fold-down back seat of the truck, leaning forward between Duck and Ned and chattering nervously the whole way.

"I was thinking we could call this thing the Hulk because Barclay said it was big and mad, but we don't have to do that if you have a better idea. We maybe shouldn't try to get too close to it because it sounds like it makes people mad, and we might end up hurting each other. Barclay's probably lucky he was alone, don't you think? Hey, how is Barclay, anyway?"

This last question is just for Ned, and is so sincere that he relaxes his grip on the wheel and smiles warmly. "He's doing great, Aubrey. Thanks for asking."

Aubrey grins in the rearview mirror. "That's great! So are you two together now, or...?"

Ned is glancing back to the mirror sharply and preparing a teasing deflection when he spots it. Just the barest edge of a black mass behind the dim tail lights, almost invisible against the deep, dark woods. He stomps hard on the brake pedal, and in the brighter shine of the brake lights, he can just make out a shape lumbering across the road behind the truck.

"Ned, what the hell?" Duck shouts in surprise over Aubrey's startled yelp.

"It's behind us," Ned explains. "It's heading down the shoulder back the way we came." He's already pulling over to the side of the road, blinkers on.

"We gotta get it off the road," says Duck. "We should lure it into the forest before we do anything else."

"Yeah, I really don't want to accidentally set a car on fire," Aubrey agrees. Ned looks away, remembering a house burning out of control, but he puts it out of his mind as he opens his door.

"Right, and it's better just to set the forest on fire," Duck mutters from the other side of the truck, but his tone has no bite to it. The abomination is a hundred meters away, nearing a bend in the road at a slow, measured pace, and apparently unaware of their presence. 

Ned considers their options as Aubrey jumps down out of the truck. "Let's cross to the other side of the road and hit it with a fireball," he suggests. "We don't want it crossing the road in case it triggers Indrid's prediction."

"Fine, but we're not using fire unless we absolutely have to," Duck says shortly. "You should shoot it with the NARF gun instead."

"But then it'll come after me, and as the young lady has so astutely observed, I have a Bigfoot and five little Bigfeet to think about back home."

"That's a chance we'll have to take," Duck says. Ned can almost hear him rolling his eyes as they cross the road.

"Just promise me you'll take my Pine Guard patch home to my little children," Ned says mournfully. "Let them know what happened to old Ned 'Family Man' Chicane."

The abomination has nearly disappeared around the curve of the road, still walking at a steady pace and still ignorant of their approach. Whatever objections Ned wants to raise, he knows he's out if time to make them. He lifts the NARF blaster as steadily as he can and takes aim.

The shot goes wide, but it catches the abomination's attention. It turns with apparent difficulty and lets out a sound that could almost be described as a roar if it were possible for an industrial lathe to roar. It reaches up into a nearby tree, grabs a branch, and yanks it down as if it were nothing. Ned has only a moment to register this before the branch is flying toward him, hurled with incredible strength and even more incredible accuracy.

"Look out!" Duck shouts as Ned dives toward the treeline for cover. Aubrey moves faster than either of them, planting her feet steadily on the ground and summoning a gust of wind that knocks the branch off course and into a nearby tree, where it shatters with an ear splitting CRACK.

Ned is sure he won't have another opportunity, so he takes aim from low in the underbrush and fires again. This time, he scores a hit, but it's because the thing is much, much closer than it used to be.

"Holy shit!" Before Ned has time to think about it, the words are out of his mouth and the abomination is on top of him. Its NARF wound is smoking, glowing gently blue around the edges, and Ned can see the forest through it as it tosses the NARF Blaster aside and wraps its inky appendages around his neck.

The moment it touches Ned's skin, the world goes red. He has a distant impression that he is being moved, lifted like he weighs nothing and swinging back and forth in the thing's grasp as it storms through the forest. That doesn't really matter, though, because Ned is angry. For the first few moments, it's an undirected anger, streaming into Ned through the ragingly hot contact with the creature's limbs. Then it begins to take shape.

Anger at himself, for being so stupid as to get captured. Anger at Kepler for not somehow spawning different, better-equipped heroes to defend humanity. Anger at Boyd Fucking Mosche, the idiot who had somehow burned down Ned's friend's house. Anger at himself again, because no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he had certainly had more than a hand in Aubrey's mother's death. Anger at Agent Stern for sticking his nose into everyone's business. Anger at himself for never telling Aubrey what he did, no matter what it would have done to their friendship. Anger that he probably wouldn't have a chance to tell her, because of the damned abomination. Anger at Indrid for not predicting Barclay would get hurt. Anger at himself for not being there to protect Barclay. Anger at himself for not telling the truth. Anger and rage and hate, so deep it feels like it will never end, at the kind of person Ned has let himself become.

The abomination is vibrating rhythmically, almost like it's laughing, and Ned hates that too. He tries to kick out at what he can see of it, but his feet just pass through it sluggishly, like it's made of tar. He reaches for its wound, desperate to hurt it, to make it feel something besides the sadistic glee that rolls off it in waves, but the wound is nearly gone, melting back into the fabric of the abomination's being.

A shout comes from somewhere far away, and the abomination stops just long enough for a blast of wind to knock it off kilter. Its grip on Ned's throat loosens and Ned falls, just for a moment, before it catches him again. For that moment, sensation floods back to Ned. A kaleidoscope of emotion whirls through him, and he's briefly aware that he can feel more than rage. Fear, shame, love. He remembers Barclay, back at the lodge, as the abomination wraps a sticky limb around his chest, and it nearly drops him before the rage returns.

He hates the abomination more than anything. Nothing matters more than destroying it. Because it'll hurt Ned's friends, and it's already hurt Barclay–

It nearly drops him again.

"Don't like that, do ya?" Ned sneers with as much bravado as he can muster. He focuses on Barclay, filling his mind with memories of them cooking together, of eating together, of being pinned beneath him. The abomination stumbles. Then it stumbles again, jostled by an impact somewhere behind it. Something scorches past Ned's head as it punches through the abomination's face, and just like that, Ned is free again, gasping for air as he scrambles frantically toward the nearest bush for cover.

Ned's mind is blessedly cool and uncluttered with rage as it catches up with him. He's considerably further into the forest than he was when the thing grabbed him. He can't see the road anymore, which he takes as a good thing; you can't cause an accident on a road you can't reach. As he turns back to gauge the abomination's response to his escape, he is shocked to see Aubrey reach fearlessly into the smoldering head of the nearly-felled abomination and set it on fire from the inside.

"Aubrey, goddammit!" Duck shouts, dropping the NARF blaster and running forward to stop her, but the deed has been done. Ned watches in fascination as the abomination fries and crumbles before him.

His eyes are sore with the heat and smoke by the time Duck gets done lecturing Aubrey, again, about the importance of fire safety in the forest.

"No, setting the fire inside the bom-bom isn't the same as lighting a campfire in a cleared fire pit," he's saying sternly while Ned kicks dirt over the smoldering ashes. "And you!" Duck wheels on him and points to the simmering coals at his feet. "You're gonna have to do better than that."

"Oh, I've got this one!" Aubrey says brightly. She screws up her eyes with focus for a moment before producing a trickle of water from her open hand. She dampens the area thoroughly before looking cheerfully to Duck for his approval.

"New trick, huh?" Duck asks, begrudgingly impressed.

"More like a new extremely awesome and useful skill!"

Ned laughs long and loud, and is still smiling fondly as they march back to the truck. He sinks, exhausted, into the passenger seat and leans against the cold window on the way back to the lodge.

"That thing really did a number on you, huh?" Duck asks awkwardly as he drives.

"Hmmmyeah," Ned mumbles.

"What was it like?" Aubrey asks excitedly from the back seat.

"It was like Barclay said," Ned replies. "It was angry, just filled with rage." It gave me a lot to think about, he refuses to say aloud. He's pretty sure Aubrey will know that part soon enough anyway. He closes his eyes against the glare of the newly-risen sun peeking out between the trees, and pretends he can't hear any more questions.

He's out of the truck almost before they've parked in front of Amnesty Lodge, and heads straight inside and up the stairs, carried along more by the need to let Barclay know they're safe than by any conscious thought. Dani is chatting with Barclay, but she ducks out with a knowing smirk as soon as he opens the door. Ned doesn't bother making sure she's out of the room before kneeling on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around Barclay.

Barclay is warm and solid and more comforting than anything Ned has ever felt. His beard brushes softly over Ned's collar, and his hands are firm against Ned's back. In the back of Ned's mind, it reminds him of lying next to Boyd after a big job, but where Boyd would be frantic and insistent, Barclay is...Ned's brain shorts out as soon as he thinks that Barclay feels like home.

He pulls back reluctantly, and his voice is huskier than he'd like as he says, "Honey, I'm home."

"You got it?"

"Yeah, we got it."

"Everyone alright?"

"More or less. It knocked me around a bit, but I'll recover." He pauses a moment before admitting, "You weren't kidding about it being angry."

"Yeah." Barclay's big hands slide up over Ned's arms, checking him for injuries. "Honey, you're shaking."

If anyone but Barclay had said it, Ned would have denied it vehemently. As it was, he just nodded.

"There are t-shirts in the middle left drawer and pajama pants on the right side of the drawer under it," Barclay said. "How about you get washed up and lie down?"

It sounds like heaven, but it would be such a bad idea. Ned is already dangerously near getting close enough to Barclay that he'll have to start telling the truth about things. About his past, about Boyd, and about his very real criminal past. Getting close to Barclay means a commitment to staying in Kepler, something that Ned knows he's been doing in effect for well over a decade, but that he's avoided fully accepting. From there, it's all dominos. Staying in Kepler means finally learning to be open with his friends. Being open means confessing to Aubrey and, god help him, accepting the consequences.

Looking into Barclay's warm, brown eyes, the consequences don't seem so bad.

"If I'm gonna get cleaned up, you're gonna have to let go of me, dear," he whispers hoarsely. Barclay smiles and reaches up to brush back a lock of Ned's hair before dropping his hands back to the quilted comforter.

Ned washes up and gets dressed in Barclay's pajamas as quickly as he can, but it's not quickly enough to stop the wheels in his mind from turning. By the time he slides under the covers, Ned knows with a fatal certainty that he's going to tell Aubrey. Maybe not any time soon, but he's going to do it. He's still thinking about it as Barclay wraps an arm around him and pulls Ned close, heat radiating off of his body as his hemp bracelet scrapes gently across Ned's lower back. It only feels natural to slide an arm around Barclay and meet him between the pillows for a kiss. It's brief and more or less chaste, but it feels more familiar than a first kiss has any right to.

"You did good, sweetheart," Barclay says quietly as they pull away.

"I haven't always," Ned admits, forcing himself with the last of his energy to hold Barclay's gaze.

"No one has."

"No, I'm serious." Barclay has to understand. Not everything, not right away, but he has to understand this. "I've done some really awful things, honey. But you-" Ned can't keep his eyes open any longer, he just can't, but he has to make Barclay understand. "You make me want to do better, dear."

Later, he will wake up with Barclay in a world of possibilities and personal truths. For now, he falls asleep cradled in warm, strong arms, determined for once in his strange and convoluted life to really become a good person.


End file.
